


Rubber Ducky

by nobetterlove



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Boss/Employee Relationship, M/M, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Smut, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: Born to old money, Tony is in the limelight simply because he exists. After a misunderstanding caught on video, he's personified as a spoil socialite & no matter what he does, he can't escape the title. Instead of letting it get him down, Tony uses it to his advantage - if anyone were to find out what he really did with his life, his reputation would be ruined. No one needed to know that he threw clay for a living or that one of the most successful ceramic business belongs to him.When things become to much to handle on his own, Tony reluctantly takes on a personal assistant by the name of Peter Parker.Preconceptions are a funny thing - Peter finds out just how nefarious they can be when he gets to see the real person behind the Tony Stark public persona.Or: the one where RDJ and a rubber ducky serve as the best muse.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 100





	Rubber Ducky

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> Thanks for clicking into this little fic - when I saw RDJ's latest Instagram post, I felt this burning urge to write fic about it. After discussions with S, this is where I ended up taking it. Here's hoping you enjoy artist!Tony and his judgy personal assistant, Peter.

In hindsight, Tony should’ve known his reputation would come from a spectacular misunderstanding. 

In the early years, Tony was not nearly as schooled in maintaining his composure – especially when he deemed himself correct. One misunderstanding caught on camera later and he was officially known as “Manhattan’s Spoiled Brat” to every major gossip rag and tabloid that could get their hands on information to print about him; true or otherwise. 

From that point on, no matter what he actually did, Tony’s movements in the media were always framed with the perception of spoiled, outlandish, and in some circles, downright rude. It didn’t matter that before the paparazzi ambushed him outside of his apartment, he spent the morning setting up some private dog walking for the local shelter dogs. He couldn’t ever pull the trigger on actually adopting one – but he digressed. Those out for a story and a story only took their photos, heckled him, and reported half-truths and words taken out of context. 

Despite the initial turmoil over it, Tony found himself with a lot more free time in the sanctity of the space he called his own. Other socialites didn’t want anything to do with him – the mere thought of being out papped drove them all mad. To avoid too much attention, Tony took his peer[s dismissal and ran with it – if a bad reputation got him the privacy that he sought, why wouldn’t he take advantage of it. 

It all seemed to work out in his favor, because if his fellow socialite peers ever found themselves privy to his actual occupation, Tony knew he could count himself on the list of social outcasts that no one talked about – in fact, the few people he knew like that weren’t even spoken about in the circles he was forced to affiliate himself with. Being old money had so many advantages, but in the long term, Tony could have easily done without it. 

Never one to care about the money, unless it was supposed to be caught on camera in some way shape or form, Tony enjoyed his solitude and the time he had to chase after his one true passion – pottery. 

The addiction started halfway through his time at MIT. Desperate to escape the confines of his dorm and the information that didn’t interest him in the least, Tony found himself wandering the streets of Cambridge, his eyes wide and peeled for the bright shine of cameras being clicked. In his slow meanderings, Tony caught the sight of an interesting looking woman, the dreads in her hair and the big pot in her hands dragging him in. And when she felt his presence, instead of getting upset, she shot him a smile and slowed her step – the woman obviously not afraid of Tony’s attention. 

He ended up walking half a mile a couple of steps behind the unnamed woman, the pot in her hands becoming more and more interesting the longer he got to look at it. The workmanship of it was obvious, the lines were neat and the dip of the pot perfectly symmetrical around the rim. Not for the first time, Tony marveled at the intense beauty of handmade work – he longed to work with his hands in the creation process. His father wanted him to put that energy into machines and technology that would further their wealth. Tony, on the other hand, he just wanted to create – no pressure, no expectation… just creation. 

The building they stopped in front was all open space with big windows. Locking eyes with the woman, Tony rushed ahead of her and opened the door, holding it and his breath as she walked through the door. Upon entering, Tony noticed the multiple rows of what he knew to be pottery wheels, each one of them gleaming in the wash of sunlight that flowed in from the streets. Sucking in a breath, Tony had to stop himself from gravitating towards one. 

A soft voice turned him around, his heart beating wildly – in the moments since walking in, Tony completely forgot the woman was there. “The dedication you showed in following me here is more than enough for me. Do you want to learn?” the still unnamed woman asked, her cheeks crinkling in the corner as a smile overtook his face. 

It didn’t take but an extra second for the excited ‘yes’ to slip out of his mouth. He understood an opportunity when it was presented to him and didn’t want to squander it. 

Without saying anything else, the woman walked by him, sat down at one of the wheels and looked expectantly at the one next to her. 

From there, Tony found in himself natural talent and a burning desire to learn all he could about the craft. Despite having the means to buy his own wheel and supplies, Tony returned to Nona’s, the old woman insisting he call her nothing but. Over the course of the last two years of his undergraduate degree, Tony split his time between uninteresting studies and the maddening obsession of wet clay and the never-ending possibilities the potters wheel could bring.

The art brought him joy and when he graduated and Nona gifted him his very own wheel and her blessing of finally being ready, Tony took to it with a passion he never experienced before. No one in his circle would understand the desire to get his hands dirty or create something that could easily be bought at some auction, or fancy gallery opening. So, he kept it a secret – the thing he treasured most in the world was his and his alone. 

That trend continued for many years after that. In order to keep up his expected persona, Tony put himself in the public’s eye a few times a year to cause a ruckus, whether it was with scandalous photos he manipulated himself, or a random appearance in a place he was supposedly blacklisted from. And between those times, Tony threw clay and created a whole line of masterpieces that culminated into a pretty popular business. 

As his talent and the demand for his work grew, Tony let the smallest bit of pride settle deep within him. Despite not being satisfied with the way the world saw him, his most favorite piece of himself was flourishing – and on his own merit, nonetheless. Making something out of himself away from his father’s money meant so much and each step he took towards that brought him a peace he wasn’t sure would ever exist for him. 

After almost 10 years of being in business, Dirty’s Pottery was finally unmanageable by himself – especially if Tony wanted to keep the anonymity of the business. No matter how much he didn’t want to bring in another person into the folds of his life, Tony knew he needed the help.

Which is why, when Peter Parker walked into his life, Tony was thrown so off guard. For most of the morning leading up to the interview, he felt a sliver of dread start to worm its way into the confines of his chest. Just seeing someone for a position like this took an amount of trust that Tony had not ever given to anyone – ever – in his entire life. The need for it was the only reason he forced himself to get his shit together and actually give the guy a chance at actually getting the job. 

His entire attitude changed when he caught the glance of milk chocolate eyes that shone, well-kept facial hair, and a smile that so obviously hid a beautiful personality behind the lengths of it. In that moment, Tony wondered about so many things – where did this guy come from, how did he walk around in those pants without getting hit on with every step, and his favorite – what could he do to get this person to stick around. All of that without a single word being exchanged between them. 

When Peter finally did start to speak, Tony couldn’t help but get lost in the interesting human sitting in the chair next to him. Instead of making it a formal affair, Tony poured them coffee and nestled into the remaining chair in the small office Tony kept slightly clear in his workshop. He went so far as to start the conversation with a question totally off the wall, which Peter answered with ease and kickstarted what turned out to be a couple hours’ worth of back and forth between the two of them. 

It was obvious, in the way it took Peter a little while to open up to him, that his reputation proceeded him. Before Peter even walked in the door, he was looking at him a certain way – and Tony couldn’t wait to do everything in his power to prove that perception wrong. In true Tony Stark nature, Tony started by finishing their conversation out in the main room of the studio, his hands covered in red clay, the length of his hair pushed back with a bandana he’d taken to wearing over the last few months. The interested eyes that watched his hands with fascination brought a smile to his face and the job offer to the tip of his tongue. 

“The job – it’s yours if you want. You’re smart, capable – the experience you came in with is amazing. I’d be pretty stupid to not snatch you up while I have the chance. But hear this now,” Tony said, his voice dipping. “If you fuck with me, I’ll ruin you. Understood?” 

An awkward chuckle was his answer, Peter’s eyes flashing with some sort of feeling as he nodded his head. “Understood, Mr. Stark. This is a big opportunity for me – I wouldn’t screw that up for 5 minutes of media attention.” 

And just like that, Tony was sold. He extended a clay covered hand out, a challenging quirk to his brow as he looked up, his own cognac colored eyes meeting Peter’s after a moment. “Cut the Mr. Stark shit, it’s just Tony.” 

Grinning, Peter returned the handshake, his soft hand wrapping around Tony’s like it fit there, like if he let himself think about it, Tony could’ve sworn it’d been there his whole life. The contrast of wet clay and pale skin did something to him – something that, after 45 years of life, Tony couldn’t remember experiencing ever before. 

\---- 

It took a while, coaxing Peter from whatever picture he painted in his head about Tony and what he knew about him. The first few months together were tense – when they attempted their first staged photo for the public eye, Peter looked at him skeptically, as if the entire situation was crazy. Then, Tony stepped in front of the camera and pulled his mask on, his expression and demeanor changing to suit the air and attitude needed to portray the spoiled persona he’d been keeping up for years now. 

The click of the camera was rapid, like the change in Tony was just as eerie for Peter as it was for the man himself. He turned and smiled and smoldered enough to make sure he had a few pictures to play with over the next few weeks, then dropped the whole act the second he could – Tony more than glad to be done with this part of his act until the next need for it came to be. Shrugging his shoulders and letting the conceded air rush from him, Tony shot Peter a smile – his assistant’s facial expression telling him much more than he needed to know. 

“It is just an act, isn’t it? I’ve never seen someone put on another skin like that before,” Peter mumbled, his ears a little red from the blush that slowly spread down his cheeks with every word. His long fingers fiddled with the dial of the camera, brown eyes down casted in what Tony could only assume was apprehension or embarrassment. 

“Everyone does it, Pete. Sometimes, it’s just more necessary than others. I had one little mishap and all of the sudden, I was painted as something that I’m not – something that I never will be. No matter what I did after that, things didn’t change. So, I use it to my advantage. Put a little chum in the water for the sharks every now and again and live my life the way I want it in between.” Tony shrugged then, his hands already working to take off the stupid jacket that pinched between his shoulders. 

Peter was quiet for a few minutes, the two of them moving around each other in the slightly uncomfortable silence. “I’m just a kid from Queens. I couldn’t even imagine what that’s like. I probably would’ve taken the opportunity you did, too. It sucks you have to be someone different, but I get it.” A soft smile could be seen on his face, the look one of Peter’s that Tony quickly became enamored with – the shine of it hitting him in the gut, supplying him with his next bit of energy from all the goodness hidden within it. 

Though it wasn’t monumental, things between them changed. While Peter used to come and go without much fanfare, Tony was surprised when he started to stick around a little longer after their work was done for today. Where the conversation could easily be described as stilted before, words started to flow between them easily – now that the damn was broken, it was like there was no stopping the conversations that could so easily exist. 

And they did, flow easily. Peter graduated from Columbia with an Economics degree – a career field he quickly understood was not for him after two years in a job that he absolutely hated. The shared hatred for what they studied in college opened up the door for actual passions, ones in which Tony quickly came to find that Peter had many of. Including pottery, though he never did anything aside from buying it until coming to work for Tony. 

“Your coffee cups are actually why I wanted this job,” Peter admitted out of the blue, the two of them settled on the soft couch in Tony’s living room after a long day of boxing and shipping orders. “When I first started college, I was dirt pour – living the dream, you know. I got the short end of the stick in housing and ended up having to find my own apartment. It was a shit hole, but I had a Dirty coffee mug to drink out of every day – so things couldn’t have been as glum as they really were. For some reason, I thought of that when I saw the ad – felt compelled to apply.” 

Shifting a little, Tony let their shoulders brush – the physical contact between them also flourishing now that Peter didn’t think he was such a piece of shit. He leaned in, applying the slightest bit of pressure to the firm deltoid he felt through Peter’s shirt. “And now you get to drink out of them whenever you want,” Tony remarked, the joking tone of his voice pulling a smile from them both. “Never thought you’d run into me when you signed up for this gig, did you?” 

“I didn’t. Honestly, when I saw it was you, I almost turned around and walked right out the door. If it wasn’t for the way you look sitting behind the potters wheel, I might’ve done exactly that.” 

A chuckle fell from Tony’s lips, the tightness in his chest that’d been building up from that first day finally loosening, whatever happened in the minutes between stepping in front of the camera and that moment obviously winning him a bit of favor. 

“I do look good behind the wheel, don’t I?” Tony answered, a shit eating grin on his face.

Peter reached over, swatting his thigh in joking exasperation. “Shut up.” 

That exchange stayed with him after that, a subtle reminder of the distance between them narrowing. Tony didn’t even know if Peter liked anything about him other than the way he looked, or the way his mugs held coffee – but a small bit of hope sat in his chest, regardless. Things were so different now, all smiles and laughing, inside jokes between the two of them that didn’t cease to be funny, no matter how many times they stopped dead in their tracks to deal with the chuckling fits that spontaneously occurred at the thought of any of them. It had to mean something, even if it wasn’t the sort of intensity that Tony wanted. 

Like most things in his life, Tony got his answer in the form of a shout, or at least, the closest a kiss could come to the form. About a year and a half into their working relationship, Peter was finally comfortable, so comfortable in fact, he allowed himself to fall asleep in the many different spaces he’d been invited into in Tony’s home and workshop. That particular day, Tony walked into his office to find Peter passed the fuck out, a cute string of drool lulling from the side of his mouth. His eyes were moving behind his eyelids, hands clenching by his sides.

For a second, Tony thought to wake him up, what he thought was distress making him want to take care of Peter in the only way he knew how. Resisting, Tony walked around his office quietly, grabbing his smock and the most recent designs before trying his best to sneak past Peter without waking the sleeping beauty up. He was about to step away from the edge of the couch when a hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. 

“Pete, what – “ Tony started to exclaim, his body falling towards Peter stopping the rest of the words from coming out of his mouth. Without being able to suck in another pull of breath, Tony’s lips were covered, all of Peter pressing fully against him, lips and obviously interested cock, included. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, Tony kept himself still, the need to flatten Peter out and press into the contact so close to winning out, despite knowing it probably wasn’t his best course of action.

A gasp of breath against his lips alerted Tony to Peter’s conscious state, the man pulling back from him in the next second. 

“Tony?” Peter gasped; the words still tinged with sleep. “Is this real? I was just dreaming – “ He stopped then, realization of what he just said grinding everything else to a halt. “Oh god.” 

Putting a finger across Peter’s lips to stop any other words from spilling out, Tony leaned back into his space, their faces mere inches away from each other. “I dream about it, too.” Tony mumbled as he closed the distance and pressed their lips together – this kiss one they were both conscious and aware of. 

The fingers slipping into his hair were the only sign that he needed. In a desperate attempt to get more skin right in that very moment, Tony climbed onto the couch, his knees pressing into the cushions bracketing Peter’s hips. His own hands moved to grasp whatever skin he could reach, Peter’s nap on the couch affording him stomach and back from a ridden-up shirt. 

Plush lips were such a distraction, the thickness of Peter’s bottom lip ridding him of any thought other than right that second and skin and more kisses that felt like straight heat touching him. Peter’s fingers dug into his scalp, blunt nails cutting into the skin in the most tantalizing way possible. 

An annoying need for oxygen pulled them apart, Tony panting into the skin of Peter’s neck as he continued to explore the long planes of skin there. If this dream haze was the only way he got what he’d been wanting since he first laid eyes on Peter, Tony would take it – simply because he never let himself and he really, really, really wanted this; wanted Peter. 

Hands on the side of his face stopped his assault, Tony pulling away with so much reluctance – his entire being shouting against the disparity of the action. Peter brushed their noses together, his fingers caressing Tony’s face, cupping behind his ears – each digit moving restlessly. 

“I want you,” Peter said plainly, the seconds of silent stares and heavily panted breaths already forgotten – the words already enough to change the way the world tipped on its axis. “I want you. Have wanted you for so long. Please, Tony – “ 

Whatever was going to come next, Tony cut him off – their lips sealing back together now that they were both on the same page, both ready for the next step – both wanting each other. 

Not in any frame of mind to do anything other than kiss, be kissed, and pull at clothes in hopes that they came off, Tony did just that – his fingers slipped under the soft t-shirt covering Peter’s chest, the pads of them tracing the smooth skin of rippling abs, and the slightest bit of chest hair just starting to coat over trim pecs. He pushed the shirt up until it rested under Peter’s arms, his brain unwilling to allow him to pull away from their kiss to actually take it off. 

Peter, like he did so well over the past few months, took the matter into his own hands. He pulled away from Tony to yank his shirt up and over his head, eager fingers doing the same to Tony’s once he got the memo and shifted so Peter was able. Soft hands found the thick patch of hair covering his upper chest and the straight path down his abdominals that trailed down into the confines of his now too-tight boxer briefs. The touch was like electricity, each inch of perusal like a shock rolling across the surface of his skin. 

Moaning, Tony let his hips drop, the bulge in his pants pressingly deliciously against Peter’s erection, the slide of his jeans against his passion both tantalizing and harsh – the perfect combination. In an attempt to gain more friction and a better position, Tony climbed off of Peter’s thighs, slotting himself between muscled legs, instead. Instantly, Peter wrapped his thighs around Tony’s hips, using his strength and leverage to pull him close, closer than either ever thought they would ever get. 

The next few minutes were a flurry of kisses against bare skin and hands wandering all the inches they could – Tony focusing on the softest little swell of Peter’s stomach, the roundness of it only enhancing the strength the rest of him portrayed. They fumbled and thrust, erections grinding through several layers of jean and fine clothed underwear. It was glorious and not enough all in one breath. Tony forced himself to create space between them in hopes of furthering things along, his shaky hands making quick work of Peter’s pants and then his own. 

Completely naked in front of him, Tony was surprised to not feel a single shred of self-consciousness. In all of his imaginings, he thought he might curl in on himself – there weren’t many people that knew the real him; baring himself this way to Peter, Tony no longer had the pleasure of anonymity, the barrier of protective shell he tried to keep with him at all times. A grinning Peter brought him away from those thoughts, his own lips turning up in a smoldering smirk. 

“Reach behind you – I think there’s something in the side table we can use for lube.” 

The words came out panted, like Tony needed every shred of oxygen in his body to deliver them, yet, he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed – Peter fumbled over himself to get to the drawer, his upper body twisting to reach, despite Tony pinning his legs down into the cushions of the couch below them. A sound of triumph left them both when Peter righted himself, a small bottle of lube in his grasp. 

“Any reason why you have lube in your workshop office?” Peter asked through a chuckle, his hands already moving to grip Tony’s bare skin, the lube sitting on his stomach in offering. 

Ignoring the question for the moment, Tony reached up to grab the bottle, his lips busy tracing the lines of Peter’s abs until he found himself face to face with a delectable erection, the tip of it glistening with the tangible exertions of their efforts. He brought his eyes up to glance at Peter, the usual honey-hazel completely overtaken by black pupil and want – so much want. 

His tongue peaked out to sop up the leaky moisture, Tony letting a moan slip from his lips before redoubling his efforts, his lips wrapping around Peter tightly. It was erotic, bobbing up and down on the most beautiful erection while maintaining such intense eye contact. The state of Peter’s eyes matched his own, the glassy nature of them making his own cock throb – the smear of precum he felt himself thrusting into a tell-tale sign of what this did to him; what Peter could so easily drag from him. 

“Jerking off, of course,” Tony finally answered, his lips pulling away from Peter’s cock with a loud pop that echoed around the small office. “I practically lived here before you came to my rescue. I’m not a saint.” 

To emphasize the point, Tony snapped open the cap of the lube, his eyes flashing as that sound too seemed to bounce off the walls. A weak moan left his lips when he turned the tube over to dump a good amount of lube over his fingers, the implication of what came next and the frigid cold of the lube doing something to him. Peter grinned up at him, his hips rolling up in the most obvious form of permission. 

Taking Peter’s cock back into his mouth, Tony let two of his fingers slip between the crease of firm butt cheeks, the tip of one tracing a tight rim. With the thought of distraction, Tony sucked hard and pressed his finger in, breaching the muscle with a kind of ease that had him moaning around the thick cock in his mouth. The boil of heat and arousal felt like it was consuming him – he’d feel lucky if he actually got to the point of slipping inside Peter without completely embarrassing himself. 

Long fingers dug into thick, salt and pepper locks, Peter’s grip tight and flexing rhythmically with the bob and pull of his mouth around the most luscious erection. Slowly, Tony opened Peter up, his fingers working in tandem with his cleverly talented mouth. Little by little, he felt the muscle around his fingers relax, Peter easily able to take three fingers after his careful ministrations. 

The grip in his hair tightened, forcing Tony to look up to gauge the situation. The sight he was met with caused his cock to throb again, the tip now completely covered with pre-cum and weepy, each second passing filling out the appendage more and more, Tony feeling so fucking close to burning already. 

Peter’s pupils were completely blown, the glassy nature of them from before overtaken by a sort of heat that Tony didn’t know existed. His hair was in disarray, the obvious toss of it back and forth showing in the tangled strands. Sweat covered him, the tiny drops on Peter’s forehead the only indication that he too was physically straining himself, desperately trying to hold himself off. 

“Fuck me, Tony. I need it – need you,” Peter gasped out, his fingers tightening in Tony’s hair even more. “Please.” 

Not one to deny himself or those he cared about, Tony pulled himself up and away, Peter’s pulsing erection slapping against his chin for the effort. A laugh left his lips as he sat up completely, nervous hands moving to grab the lube. The snick of the cap opening made them both jump, each man completely wound up and ready to go off at any moment. Dumping a generous amount of lube onto his cock, Tony reached down to spread it, smearing the last little bit of it around Peter’s entrance – the thought of the sticky-slick slide pushing him into position faster than he thought imaginable. 

Nudging Peter’s thighs, Tony settled further between them, the muscles there clenching with the subtle pressure of a cock head against the relaxed rim; the feeling jolting them both. He sucked in a quick breath, his chest expanding with the long pull of air. Breathing back out, Tony pressed forward, thrusting his hips without hesitation until they were pressed soundly together, Tony’s pelvis to the warm flesh of Peter’s ass. 

“Oh, fuck –“ Tony babbled, his head hanging between his shoulders as he held himself above Peter, giving them both a moment to adjust to the heat and tightness – the overall feeling of their connection blazing up between them. 

Peter’s answer came in the form of a swift clench of muscle around Tony’s cock, the heat of it all burning any ounce of self-control Tony might’ve had. His hips snapped forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin pulling a groan from the depth of his chest. If this was what just being wrapped up in Peter felt like, Tony couldn’t even begin to fathom what the end result of their joining would be like. 

A little bit desperate, Tony dropped down until their chests were pressed together, hands moving to urge Peter to wrap his thighs a little higher up his chest to better the angle. With that done, he nestled his face into the side of Peter’s neck and let go. 

Every thrust was accompanied by the sweetest sounds, both men contributing to the groundbreaking symphony of passion and connection. The slap of skin on skin and breathy moans were the only thing that could be heard around the room, each crescendo of sound driving Tony that much closer to the edge he never wanted to reach – staying there, in that moment, it would’ve been the best thing in the world. 

Yet, he found himself chasing the feeling of jumping over the peak, anyway. Peter was clamping down around him hard, the constant press of Tony’s dick against his prostate creeping him towards the edge – the man’s cock was slick between them, each thrust pulling yet another pulse of pre-cum from the tip to guide the way. Their stomachs provided the friction to Peter’s cock that Tony couldn’t, his attention completely consumed by thrusts and sweat and the heat surrounding him. 

With his orgasm impending, Tony picked up his pace, the rhythmic strokes from before completely gone, replaced with an animalistic push and pull that was quickly driving him towards completion. He didn’t want to reach it until Peter did, however; the clench of muscles around his touch sensitive cock a good indicator of how close Peter was, too. 

After another few hard thrusts, Peter wailed, his hand slipping into Tony’s hair to pull at the locks. 

“I’m gonna cum – oh god, Tony!” 

Holding on just long enough to see the look of pure ecstasy on Peter’s face, Tony thrusted once, twice, three times before letting himself go – his orgasm washing over him deliciously, the feel of it like passing out and coming to all in one shot. 

Tony felt his arms give way, his body crashing heavily into Peter’s. They were covered in sweat and semen, both physically exerting their bodies to the point of exhaustion, but completely sated, nonetheless. Pressing a kiss to Peter’s neck, Tony let himself relax, not giving two shits about the sweaty stickiness between them. 

“We should have been doing that for ages now,” Peter whispered, his voice deep and wrecked sounding, a sort of pleasure radiating from him as the words left his lips. 

Chuckling softly, Tony wrapped Peter up, his arms squeezing him tightly to his chest, the two of them settling into the gentle comfort surrounding them in that moment. 

“Well, you’re definitely not getting rid of me, now.” 

\---- 

Loosening the reins on the idea of his public image got a little easier the longer Tony spent in Peter’s arms. Without much to rely on in the personal life Tony cultivated throughout his existence, his image was really the only thing he had. Even if that image was one that wasn’t the best – at least the world knew something of him. Yet, the closer he got to Peter and the effortlessness of their relationship, the less he cared about what people thought of him – of his sassy, diva, socialite attitude that he’d been cultivating for so long. 

Instead, Tony felt the need to let little pieces of himself shine through as the months past. It became clear that being his genuine self was important to Peter – the man seemed to like all the pieces of him and wanted the world to see him in all of his glory. 

It’d been too long for him to completely pour his public persona completely down the drain – there were too many people that came to expect a certain sort of thing from him. And he wasn’t anywhere close to being comfortable with a public reveal of his face in conjunction with his pottery business, but – they were slowly making progress. 

Several months after finally coming together as a couple, Tony and Peter were back where things started to change for them – Peter behind the camera, watching as Tony put on his mask to face the public. This time, they were camped in front of a sleek, all black motorcycle – the bike one of Tony’s most recent glutinous purchases (he happened upon it a week or two after Peter mentioned how sexy he thought it would be, Tony on the back of a bike like that). Tony let Peter pick out the outfit he was sporting, the straight black pants and stiff collared jacket one of his absolute favorites. 

After several of these over their time together, Tony understood Peter’s feelings on the smolder he let free when posing for these types of photos – there was a love-hate relationship with the particular faces he made throughout the process. On one hand, Peter hated the reason for the false look – pleasing people was never something he became accustomed to, even after spending so much time with Tony. On the other hand, Tony knew that Peter found it irresistible – the fact that he could kiss it off of him now only adding to that feeling. 

Peter let it go on for a while – they shot several different poses in, on, and around the bike. Directing him from behind the camera, Peter made comments here and there, most of the time allowing Tony to do what he wanted. When his limit was reached, Tony found himself slapped across the face with a rubber duck, the toy hitting him before he could even see it coming. 

“I can’t take that look anymore. I want to pull you off that bike and ravage you. But I can’t – because we’re in public.” 

Peter’s eye caught his, the truth of his words existing in the small space between them. Grinning, Tony let the rubber duck rest against his thigh, a smirk slipping across his lips. He heard a series of clicks before Peter was staring him down again, a mix between lust and hilarity playing across his face. 

Later, when he downloaded the pictures, Tony couldn’t stop the big bust of laughter that fell from his lips, a huge smile slipping across his cheeks. He quickly opened up the one he would post and did the customary touch ups in Photoshop before sending it to himself, anticipation and excitement sitting in his chest at his most recent idea. Tony didn’t hesitate, bringing up Instagram and posting the photo without a second thought. 

The thunk of a phone hitting the ground in the other room, followed by fast footsteps coming his way was the clear sign that Peter saw the picture – his boyfriend appearing in the doorway of their room a moment later with the most affectionate look on his face making Tony feel like he was about to burst open at the seams. 

“All of those pictures and that’s the one you post?” Peter questioned, his long legs carrying him over until he was inches from Tony. “That rubber duck can’t be all that good for your image.” 

Reaching out, Tony pulled Peter until they were chest to chest, his boyfriend’s arms wrapping around his shoulders to narrow the space down even further. “Someone told me it needed a change,” Tony mumbled, his words somewhat muffled by the press of his lips against Peter’s as he spoke. “Thought it might be a step in the right direction.” 

Peter’s answer came in the form of a desperate kiss, their tongues and teeth clashing in the best of ways. “I love you, you fucking dork.” 

Pressing back in for another kiss, Tony let himself revel in the feeling taking him over in that moment. After so long, it felt good to take the tiniest step out of the closet – there were many more to take, but at least he knew the effort was appreciated. He let himself stay lost in the kiss for a while, the desperate caress of soft lips and eager hands the only thing that really mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy - that was fun! Thanks for sticking around to see where I landed after hopping down the rabbit hole. 
> 
> Join me over on tumblr (ohwereusingourmadeupnames) - I'm always taking prompts and reblogging the good stuff!


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